Accustomed to Irrevocable
by bluemuriel
Summary: "God, Bones, you know I almost have a heart attack when I see you do that." ..."You'll have considerably more warning when I actually go into labor." Written for a bitesize bones prompt: 'B&B discuss childbirth options.'


**A/N:** For those of you following Reckless, I'm having some trouble with it. This week, I wrote this instead! It's for the bitesize_bones "Meme without a theme" comment fic on LiveJournal.

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"God, Bones, you know I almost have a heart attack when I see you do that. I expect to see the baby popping out onto the floor."

Booth walked into her—their—bedroom to find her squatting on the carpet, legs wide to accommodate her pregnant belly.

She raised her brows at him. "You'll have considerably more warning when I actually go into labor. And if I'm going to choose this position, I should get my body accustomed to it."

He sat on the bed a few feet from her. "Tell me again why it's better?"

"The conventional position, of lying supine with the legs flexed, does make it easier to see what's happening or for medical personnel to assist. But it compresses the tailbone and sacrum, reducing the circumference of the pelvic outlet. This position…" Brennan paused, rocking her weight before settling into what must be a more comfortable spot (although it didn't look like it to Booth). "Squatting will completely open the pelvis, and offer the slight advantage of the baby being pushed downward with gravity. It's a far more traditional birthing position, given the variety of cultures that…"

"Okay, I get it." He watched her crouching there, breathing slowly and calmly. "Are you gonna want to do the ice cube thing again?"

"Maybe." She saw his doubtful look. "It's a useful exercise. You know what they said at the birthing classes. Having you hold ice against my wrists or behind my ears provides a baseline, of my reaction to pain, and your reaction to me _being _in pain." She studied him a moment. "You didn't fail a test, Booth. You almost took the ice away when I started to get uncomfortable, but you didn't. You talked to me. You helped."

He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "I _will _help you, Bones. Whatever you need, whatever makes you comfortable… I'll be here. I'll do it."

"I know." Then her mouth curved ruefully. "Right now, could you help me get up?"

Bending over, he held her under the arms to haul her to her feet. She winced, shaking the kinks out of her legs, before they sat down next to each other on the bed.

"You know, Bones, if Angela and Hodgins can do this, then we can. We're already great at babysitting, right? And we're a lot tougher than they are. I mean, we catch murderers for a living."

She didn't respond, but grabbed his hand and pressed it against her belly. He waited, and then he felt it: the telltale little thumping, like someone tapping from inside a soft cave. And just like the first time, an awed smile spread over his face.

"Does this mean," he teased, "that our little guy didn't like being in that position on the floor?"

"Our little _girl_," she corrected, "was rather quiet while I was down there. It's only now that she started moving around again."

"Maybe she was practicing, too. She was staying real still, saying, Okay, Mom, I'm getting ready. Assuming the position: head down, arms tucked in. Ready to slide out into the world."

Brennan smiled, and it was that new smile, for him and the baby: joy, flickering with fear. "Actually, it's more like _squeeze _out into the world. I know that…" She trailed off, and he put an arm around her, silently urging her to say what was bothering her.

"I know that thousands of babies are born every day. I know that evolution has shaped our bodies for this purpose. But it's a fine line, Booth. The demands of giving birth to large-brained babies, against the demands of a pelvis designed for bipedal walking? It's a very precarious balance."

He hugged her closer and whispered, "You think too much, Bones. And right now, I think you know way too much about bones."

"Well, you know some of it too. You know that babies' skull plates haven't fused; their heads have soft spots. That means those plates will shift and actually overlap, to accommodate the pressures of birth." Booth couldn't help a shiver, and she must have felt it. "Then, the amount of stress and stretching that the mother's pelvis undergoes? It's such a powerful process, Booth. It leaves irrevocable marks on the bone."

He remembered the times she'd been hunkered over someone's remains, announcing the scrapes and scars that told them the woman was a mother.

Now he rubbed her shoulder and said, "Nothing's going to happen to you, Bones. To either of you. I won't let it."

She looked at him, but she didn't say, 'You can't predict the future.' She seemed to know it was his way of supporting her, protecting her. Because that's what he did. What _they _did, for each other.

"Having a child… you know where else it leaves permanent marks?" he murmured. "On your heart."

"I… I already know that. And not just the baby. I have your marks, too." Her eyes looked clear and solemn.

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Yes. That is a good thing." Now she smiled, sudden and brilliant. When it faded, he still saw quiet confidence. "I can do this, Booth. I'm scared… but I don't have regrets. I can do this."

He leaned close and pressed a kiss against her hair. He knew she wasn't just talking about childbirth.

She was talking about _them_. Her family. Her heart.


End file.
